Page 33 of Timber Ridge

I wonder if that near-kiss was a narrow escape or a missed opportunity. Mom’s advice seems more real than ever, but a trickle of fear seeps into my heart. It’s like waiting for a bite on a still morning. You’ve got the line out, the bait set, but there’s no telling when the fish will strike or if they will at all. You just need to be patient and keep your line in the water. And when you get that nibble, will the fish be there, or will they steal the bait and move on to another line?

Chapter Thirteen

TIMBER

My alarm tears me from my dreams at four in the morning. I am kissing Kane, and it is glorious. But as I shake off the fog of sleep, a thought arises—the real thing would be even better. Dreams set the stage, but it's real life where it all counts.

I shake off all the tingles rushing through my body. With a Herculean effort, I fling myself out of bed, a feat akin to a fish flopping around on dry land.

Rushing to the bathroom, I squint at my reflection, half expecting to see swollen lips and a blush staring back at me. Yet, to my surprise, I'm normal morning me with pillow creases and a wild mane. I splash water on my face to wake up. Once my teeth are brushed and my hair is in order, I face the day.

Back in my room, I tackle the wardrobe battle. With a grunt of determination, I wrestle my way into a pair of Eliza's jeans, which are one size too small. The struggle is like trying to zip up a tent while wrestling with a bear. But finally, after much huffing and puffing, victory is mine.

Feeling slightly ridiculous, I leave the bedroom, ready to tackle whatever challenges the day throws at me. After all, I can conquer anything after a morning battle with a pair of jeans.

I tiptoe into the kitchen. It's tranquil. The only sound is the gentle hum of the refrigerator. With a sense of purpose, I set about whipping up a delicious breakfast for Kane and Hailey.

I rummage around the cupboards until I find the necessary ingredients for pancakes. Flour, check. Eggs, check. Milk, check. As I gather the supplies, I reflect on last night, how Kane and I opened up to each other. Does that count for something more? We shared laughs and stories, not just thoughts in my head. Sure, it wasn't a date, but it was real. And real conversations have to count for something, don't they? What if what we're building isn't just in dreams? It could be the start of something.

With practiced ease, I mix the batter, the rhythmic whisking soothing my nerves. The aroma of vanilla fills the air as I pour the batter onto the hot griddle.

As the pancakes sizzle, my mind replays the dream, the vivid memory of Kane's lips pressed against mine. There is a rightness to it, a sense of belonging, and in that dream, everything else fades away. It is only us, and it is perfect. The shock of reality, the sound of the alarm—it was like cold water dousing a flame. Now, standing here, flipping pancakes, that dream is like a cruel tease, a reminder of what isn't.

Sure, Kane may be intriguing, but what future could there possibly be when I'm set to leave in August? The job back home in Phoenix is the role I thought I wanted and it’s more money. I need the money to fix up my mom’s house because that’s where I have my memories of her. But now, there's Kane. His presence has cast a new light on everything, making me question what I really want. Phoenix is familiar, safe, but it's also a return to the old me. Kane represents something new, a change I hadn't planned for. The thought of leaving makes me feel both excited and pained. It’s a tug-of-war between the comfort of the past and the pull of a new possibility.

I sigh, leaning against the countertop and closing my eyes. It's tempting to get lost in the moment's allure, ignore the practicalities, and surrender to the pull of attraction. But deep down, I know better. If we get involved, it will turn into heartache when my time here ends, and I've had enough heartache.

Yet, despite my rationalizations, a small part of me still holds hope. Hope that there's more to this attraction than meets the eye.

For me, that sliver of hope looks like a question mark drawn in the sand, likely to be washed away by the tide of reality. What would it mean to give this a chance? Could I entertain a fleeting romance, knowing the expiration date is as searing as the desert sun back in Phoenix? Could we try to stretch this connection across the miles, a long-distance bid to keep the flame alive? I can almost envision the late-night calls, the flights to see each other, the constant texts.

Could that work? The practical part of me lists the cons. The emotional side counters with “what if.” The list is long on both sides, but “what if” weighs more heavily. It’s a dance of possibilities in my head, each step choreographed by a heart that's learned to be cautious yet yearns to tango.

But for now, I push those thoughts aside, focusing instead on flipping the pancakes, determined to savor this moment of domestic bliss before the realities of the day come crashing back in.

Moments later, Kane and Hailey come downstairs together. Hailey beams as she takes in the spread before her—pancakes, orange juice, and me. Kane's gaze flickers with an intensity that leaves me slightly unsettled. A whisper of doubt tiptoes through my mind. Did I overstep my boundaries? Was surprising them with breakfast too much, too soon?

“Wow, you made us breakfast?” The look on his face is pure joy.

I lift my shoulders in response, trying to play it cool. “I was up first.” But deep down, a spark of happiness ignites within me. With a grin, I join them at the table, handing two pancakes to Hailey before serving up a hearty stack of four for Kane and keeping the final two for myself. As I settle into my seat, their gratitude washes away any lingering doubts, and I bask in the simple pleasure of sharing this moment with them.

“How did you sleep?” His voice is gentle, but there's a turbulent undertone that matches the stormy look in his eyes. His tapping fingers betray a hint of nervousness, mirroring my own. Are we both experiencing this tension, or am I alone in this?

Caught in the moment, I struggle to find the right words. I'm not about to tell him that I had a hot, steamy dream about him kissing me and how his hands roamed over my body.

“Good, what about you?”

He stares at my lips for a moment, as if he, too, had a dream about them, and is looking for evidence. Heat climbs up my cheeks, a sign of the havoc he stirs within me. Every glance he offers is a riddle, his eyes holding back unsaid words. It's in these quiet exchanges, these fractions of seconds where our worlds collide and retreat, that I find myself lost in the what-ifs.

“Slept like a baby,” he says, his voice steady. But his brief glance leaves a hint of hope, or maybe it’s just my wishful thinking.

“That's excellent.” I turn to Hailey, who is halfway through a pancake. It makes me happy to see her enjoying what I made. If I had been able to have a child when I was trying, he or she would be about Hailey's age. For a minute, I let myself pretend everything around me is mine. I never asked for riches, jewels, or fancy cars. All I ever wanted was a place to call home and a family to call mine.

“Big day of fishing today?” I raise an eyebrow, hoping he’ll share his plans with me.

“Same old, same old, but I’ll try a new location farther out. I don't normally push the boundaries, but knowing you'll be here for Hailey, I might do that.” His voice is a blend of casual conversation and subtle sincerity. The subtext isn't lost on me. This isn't about changing his routine, it's about trust. There’s a delicate thread extending between us, tethering him to me in ways that surpass our day-to-day interactions. “It means I'll be late, but I'll leave the Polaris for you, and you can come home when you like.”

The way he says “home”—a word so simple yet weighted with unrealized dreams—feeds into my fantasy. Being trusted with Hailey is a sacred responsibility that I cherish. As he discusses his plans, my mind wanders to the evening ahead. The house will be quieter, filled with the lingering essence of his presence. Hailey will be there, a sweet girl with his eyes, and in caring for her, I'm caring for him. It's a responsibility I take on willingly and happily.